Cornered. The cross-eyed zombie approached slowly, steadily. I tried to escape, clambering up the chainlink gate blocking the alley. A cold, clammy hand pulled me back.
I stood and faced the vacant, open-mouthed stare. Torn flesh hung from his neck and face. One eye oozed milky white pus, and his breath smelled of death. My heart filled with dread. Then he bit me. The pain rushed over, and instantly I felt cold.
Slice!
Half of the zombie's head calved away, and he crumpled to the pavement. My friend Kenneth stood behind, holding a machete.
Oh good, I thought. I'm hungry!
